


The Right Path Doesn't Mean Easy

by StoriesofmyLife



Series: The Choice You Make is The Path We'll Take [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 06:39:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7673929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoriesofmyLife/pseuds/StoriesofmyLife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the Astronomy Tower, choices are made and even though the future isn't always bright, the right path is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Right Path Doesn't Mean Easy

**Author's Note:**

> So, I guess this is gonna be a mini series?? Like not a chaptered story, just one-shots as they come to me. Enjoy (:

Pinks and oranges and yellows swirled and mixed in the warm summer evening, painting the grounds of Hogwarts in a soft golden light of the fading sun. The grounds were quiet, almost serene and if Draco closed his eyes, he could almost pretend that the last seventy two hours had never happened. 

His status as a Death Eater had been revealed to the whole school, the War between light and dark was rising to a near breaking point, his parents were now aware of his change in loyalties and Dumbledore was dead and with him, was Draco’s hopes of ever escaping the Dark Lord’s reign of terror relatively unscathed. 

Draco wasn't an idiot, he knew that while the Order had quiet a few members, it was still nothing compared to the amount of followers the Dark Lord had and was still gaining. And now, with the death of their leader, the chances of a victory seemed more like a distant dream for the Order. They didn’t stand a chance, not with the amount of people who, like Draco, were weighing the pros and cons of each side and right now, the scales tipped more towards the Dark side. Join the winning team and you have a stronger chance of survival. The logic was sound, and maybe, at one point, Draco’s Slytherin side would've lead him that direction. 

Self-preservation ran deep, he was learning. Going against one’s nature was a hard battle and Draco found himself wondering if it was worth the fight. It took everything in him that night on the astronomy tower, to not follow his parents, to take the easy path and stay in the Dark Lord’s good graces. To follow logic and deal with the consequences later. 

_But_

Watching Harry fall to his knees next to Dumbledore’s dead body, agony written across every crevice of the face Draco was still learning and mapping, a face he was growing to… _care_ for, for the first time in his life, he followed his heart and now it was leading him down a path that had an unseen ending. 

Draco found himself suddenly angry. At Dumbledore, at Harry, but mostly at himself. 

He never deluded himself into thinking he was a good person. He’s lied, stolen, schemed, cheated, blackmailed and always put himself first. He’s never once cared about anything other than money and attention and himself. He’s hurt people, said and done some horrid things to people. Because it was so _easy,_ to live up to the standard that everyone expected of him. The Malfoy name was like a brand, seared into his skin and with it came the judgement from the entire wizarding world to be who they thought he _should_ be. Who his father _wanted_ him to be. What his peers _wanted_ him to be. 

But now that he was trying, for the first time in his life, to do the right thing, to be the better man, someone who could be worth redemption, he was struggling to break the mold that he’d been forced to shape into for his entire life. 

He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he didn’t want to be that person. Cold, callous, and detached from everything and everyone around him—something that resembled his father to close for his liking—but he couldn't help but think how much _easier_ it would all be, to slide back into that role, to run back into the embrace of his old life, no matter how suffocating and dark it was. 

He didn’t know who he was without any of it and that scared Draco more than anything. He didn’t know how to be the better man, to be selfless and caring. His whole life he wanted out and now, when faced the high stakes that were only going raise over the next few months, his logic wanted nothing more than to run back to it all and never look back. 

Having Harry and…whatever they were, helped ground him and even though it scared him with depth of truth the sentiment held, it gave him something to fight for. While his logic was a force to be reckoned with, whatever he had with Harry was stronger and Draco’s choice, to reject the morals and values he was raised with—something that again, went against that pesky nature of his—and to fight for something that, deep down, he knew was the right thing. He just wished that doing the right thing was as natural to him as doing things the easy way was, once upon a time. 

_“We must all make the choice between what is right and what it is easy.”_

Draco, at the time, never knew what Dumbledore meant by that, but when faced with the internal war that was currently in front of him, he never understood something with more clarity. 

Footsteps sounded behind him and despite his current state of inner turmoil, a small smile danced on the edges of Draco’s lips, knowing who it was without even having to turn around. 

“You may be talented with several things, Potter, but stealth isn't among them.” He drawled, never taking his eyes off the the view in front of him. 

“And for a moment, I thought that might’ve been a compliment passing your lips.” Harry said, mimicking Draco’s dry tone. 

“Perhaps one day, Potter, you may manage to accomplish something worthy of a compliment, but until that day comes…” Draco’s voice trailed off, his lips quirking up into a smirk. 

“I can think of a few things,” Harry responded, his voice closer than it had been a few moments ago, dripping with just enough suggestiveness and innuendo that it set Draco’s cheeks aflame. 

Turning his back on the setting sun, he was met with an innocent smile that contrasted greatly with the mischievous gleam in Harry’s jade eyes. 

Despite his flushing cheeks, Draco, never to be outdone, responded in kind, “Do you wish to put your galleons where your mouth is?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Harry mirrored his expression with twitching lips, “Is that an invitation?”

Reaching out, Harry gripped Draco’s hip and pulled him closer, brushing hisnose against Draco’s warm cheek. Taking in his dark eyelashes brushing against his pale cheeks, down to his slightly chapped lips, Draco found himself smiling softly, his heart pounding as quick as a phoenix’s wings. 

They had never spoken about this… _impossible_ and _dangerous_ thing growing between them, not wishing to break whatever fragile spell that had been cast over them. But Draco wanted it, and now, with the threat of death and darkness so close he could practically feel it’s clutches brushing against the nape of his neck, he held whatever they were close to his chest, wanting to protect it with every amount of strength he possessed. 

“Perhaps.” Draco allowed, brushing his lips against Harry’s. Not really a kiss, not necessarily an invitation like he insinuated, more of a caress, a silent sign of affection that he hope said more than his constant failure of words ever could. 

There was something in the air, something surrounding them and it tugged at Draco, in the back of his mind as Harry pressed closer, claiming Draco’s lips with his own, something that resembled more an actual kiss than just a simple touch. 

_Desperate._

The word flashed across the front of his mind like lightening across a black satin sky as Harry did something quite skilled with his tongue that made Draco, a bit breathless, pull back to stare at darkened green eyes with something like betrayal twisting in his gut. 

“You’re leaving.” He whispered. 

An emotion, shock perhaps, guilt more likely, surfaced in Harry’s eyes before it was gone just as quick as it came. 

With guarded eyes, Harry slowly nodded once, quick and precise, barely noticeable. But Draco. Draco was watching Harry’s face so closely, he wasn't even blinking. He didn’t miss it. But apart of him wished that he did. 

Panic was closing his throat, making it suddenly harder to breathe. 

“Why?” It was one word, but it was a struggle keep his voice level, a forced calm. 

He could see the hesitation in Harry’s eyes before he even asked the question and the knife only twisted deeper. An ache flared in his chest, unfamiliar, but his mind registered it for what it was. 

_Hurt_ was not something Draco let himself feel, ever. But here, now, standing in front of a boy he was laying everything down for, someone he felt… _something_ for, it flared hot and painful to the point of agony. 

“I see,” Draco whispered, failing, despite his best effort to keep any emotion devoid from his tone, “even though it’s covered up and out of sight, the mark is never out of mind is it?” 

His words were harsh, spat like it was venom from his lips and a vicious sense of victory flared in small part of that was fighting tooth and nail to go back, at the pain that flashed through Potter’s eyes.

“Draco—“ Ignoring Potter’s tightening grip on his hips, he yanked himself free of his arms, shouldering him out of the way to get some much needed space. 

“Don’t call me that,” Draco snapped, his grey eyes sparking with fury, “admit it, Potter, that’s all you see when you look at me, isn't it? Just some low life Death Eater who’s not worth trusting.”

“Draco that’s not—“ Potter protested. 

“Merlin, I bet this was all a part of some plan,” Draco continued, not even bothering to let him speak, “lure me into some sort of trap, use my feelings for you to your advantage, to get me to change sides just so when the time was right you could use me as bait or some sort of inside source—“

Potter was growing angry, Draco could see it, but he welcomed it. He was begging for some sort of fight, anything to redeem his wounded pride and make up for his obvious poor lack of judgement. 

“Are Granger and Weasley in on it too? I bet they know everything,” Draco said with a laugh that held no amount of amusement, “Joke’s on you, Potter, because I had a plan too. I knew about your little crush on me, and I knew that the temptation of following me when I ran would be too great for you to resist. You and your pathetic Gryffindor curiosity.”

Potter tried to hold on to his angry glare, but Draco could see the doubt begin to seep like poison into those defiant green eyes. The satisfaction that hummed in his veins at the sight made him feel physically ill and the ache in his chest only grew, but he pressed on. 

“I never knew that just a few tears and a couple kisses could break your defenses so easily, Potter, but your loss is only my gain. Your pathetic little crush and your Gryffindor stupidity is what got Dumbledore killed—“

An ache that rivaled the one in his chest flared in his head as it met the wooden floor of the Astronomy Tower, the breath leaving his lungs in harsh _whoosh_ as Potter landed on top of him, one hand clasped around Draco’s wrists, one pointing the tip of his wand at Draco’s throat. His face was so close, Draco could feel his breath against his lips, short, harsh pants that were as warm as his weight on Draco’s hips. His eyes were a dark green, like the sea in a thunderstorm, pupils blow wide and swimming with so much anger that Draco felt, for the first time, true fear run down his spine at the sight. 

“Don’t,” Potter warned, so low, so cold, practically shaking with amount of anger that he didn’t bother to conceal, “ever say that again.”

Potter’s eyes bore into his with so much intensity, Draco swore for a brief moment that Potter had put him under an Imperious. He couldn't look away even if he wanted to.

“Dumbledore,” Potter said slowly, his jaw twitching with the amount of effort it took to keep his anger at bay. Guilt settled heavily in Draco’s stomach, and the ache in his chest migrated to his throat, causing it constrict painfully, “left me with a specific task to do, something that, if I manage to succeed, will give me the best chance to defeat Voldemort.”

Potter shook his head, a harsh laugh escaping his lips and Draco had to refrain from flinching, “You switching sides so suddenly, a marked Death Eater abandoning Voldemort’s side for mine,” Potter closed his eyes, but it didn’t stop Draco from seeing the breathtaking amount of pain in his eyes, that made the guilt increase tenfold, “I wanted to keep you in the dark as much as possible, to protect you. The things they would do to you, if they even knew half of what—“ he cut himself off with a frustrated noise and Draco found himself yearning to reach up and stroke away the furrow between his eyebrows.

With choked laugh, Harry opened his eyes and tears welled in Draco’s eyes at the amount of vulnerability shining in those green depths. 

“I guess it was all for nothing, wasn't it?” Harry said with a small, self deprecating laugh. 

“Harry—“

He winced at the use of his name and Draco supposed he deserved that, but it didn’t take the sting away.

For the first time in his life, Draco saw the amount of destruction a few well aimed words could do to someone. And for the first time, he couldn't escape the aftermath, he was forced to watch it unfold right in front of his eyes and he could do nothing to stop it. The ache in his chest was overwhelming, every emotion he’d felt in the last few days—hurt, anger, frustration, self-doubt—all crescendoed and fear like he had never felt before at the thought of someone he actually… _cared_ about, not trusting him, caused his self-preservation instinct to kick in and destroy the first pure and real thing in his life. 

Once again, that line between darkness and light appeared and once again, he found himself on the dark side and was reminded why no amount of re-learning or desire could wash away sixteen years of destructive nature. He would never deserve this boy in front of him. No amount of redemption and repentance for his past sins would ever free him of his true self, of that pesky thing known as _human nature._

_But_

Draco was a selfish man and he used that to his full advantage when he broke free of Harry’s grasp, which had slackened during his admission, taking him off guard. They landed non-so gently, with Draco straddling Harry’s stomach and Harry laying flat on floor beneath Draco. 

“Always have to be the hero, love,” Draco whispered, tone bordering on reverence. He leaned down, closing the gap slowly, giving Harry the chance to pull away, to say no, to hex him, because at this point, he beyond deserved it. 

“I’m sorry,” Draco whispered, brushing his lips against Harry’s. A plea, an apology, a desperate attempt to say everything he was afraid to and Harry, bless him, took it for it was and the amount of relief that swept through Draco when Harry took his bottom lip between his own, kissing him back, made him breathless and made his heart stop in the best way. 

“I’m trying, Harry,” Draco whispered against the smooth skin of Harry’s cheek, “I’m trying to make the right choice.”

_Don’t give up on me._

“Have you?” Harry whispered, self-doubt coloring his tone and Draco closed his eyes, guilt once again settling like lead in his stomach. 

Looking down into Harry’s eyes, Draco couldn't help the small smile that danced on his lips. Brushing the dark strands from his eyes, he took in the infamous scar, the shape of his dark brows, the slope of his nose, the hope shimmering in his eyes and the pale pink color of his perfectly bowed lips. 

“There may be times when I want to choose the easy path,” Draco admitted, “but then something here,” placing his hand on Harry’s chest, right below his heart, the beat fast, but steady, a reassurance that he was here, in one piece, alive and _wanting,_ “reminds me that, the right path is way more rewarding, in the long run, than the easy one.”

Brushing his lips against Harry’s, Draco smiled, “You’re the right path, Harry, that’s the only thing I’m sure of going into this war.”

And that was the truth, at the end of it all. Draco may not be sure of who he was, what he was without his parents influence or Dumbledore’s guidance. But he knew, that while this wasn't the easy choice—giving up his parents, his name and possibly his _life_ for a side that may not come out the clear winner of this brewing battle—this was the _right_ one.

“Come back to me, yeah?” Draco whispered. 

Harry smile didn’t take away from the seriousness of his gaze or the strength and conviction in his voice when he whispered, 

_“Always.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts??? (:


End file.
